Out in the Black
by Krum2000
Summary: Harry Potter/Firefly/Serenity crossover. Upon his defeat of Voldermort, Harry disappears and wakes up to find himself all alone with nothing to his name on an unknown planet 500 years in the future. Can he carve a new life for himself out in the black?
1. Looking down the barrel

Chapter One : Looking down the barrel.

May 2nd, 1998.

"Protego," Harry roared, and the shield charm expanded in the middle of the hall, Voldemort staring around for the source of the spell as Harry pulled off his invisibility cloak.

The yell of shock, the cheers, the screams on every side of "Harry!, He's alive!" were stifled almost at once. The crowd was afraid, and silence fell abruptly and completely as Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and began, at the same moment, to circle each other.

"I don't want anyone else to try and help," Harry said loudly, and in the total silence his voice carried like a trumpet call. "it's got to be this way, it's got to be me."

Voldemort hissed.

"Potter doesn't mean that." he said, his red eyes wide. "That isn't how it works is it, who are you going to sacrifice for you today, Potter?"

"Nobody," said Harry simply, "there are no more horcruxes. It's just you and me, neither can live while the other survives, and one of us is about to leave for good, both of us if needs be.

"One of us?" jeered Voldemort, his whole body taut, red eyes staring as if he was about to strike. "You think it will be you victorious do you? The boy who survived by accident and because Dumbledore was pulling the strings?"

"Accident was it, when my mother died to save me?" asked Harry. They were still moving sideways, both of them in a perfect circle, maintaining the same distance from each other, and for Harry, no face existed but Voldemort's. "Accident, when I decided to fight in the graveyard, when I fought in the ministry? Accident, that I didn't defend myself tonight and still survived, returning to fight again? Accident, that I'm fully prepared to die to take you with me right now?"

"Accidents!" screamed Voldemort, but still he did not strike, and the watching crowd was frozen as if petrified, and of the hundreds in the hall, nobody seemed to breathe but the two in the centre. "Accident and chance and the fact that you crouched and snivelled behind the skirts of greater men and women, and permitted me to kill them for you while you ran and hid!"

"You won't be killing anyone else here tonight," said Harry as they continued to circle and stare into each other's eyes, green into red, "you won't be killing any of them, ever again. Don't you get it, I was and am still ready to die to stop you from killing these people -"

"But you didn't!" cut in Voldemort.

"- but I meant to, and did, and would do it again. I have done what my mother did, they are all protected from you. Haven't you noticed that your spells aren't binding? You can't touch them any more, you didn't learn from you mistakes did you Riddle?"

"You dare -" started Voldemort.

"Yes! I dare," interrupted Harry, "I know things you don't know Tom Riddle, I know lots of important things that you don't, Dumbledore taught me well. And your making a big mistake."

Voldemort did not speak, but prowled in a circle, and Harry knew that he kept him temporarily mesmerised and at bay, held back by the faintest possibility that Harry might indeed know a final secret.

"Is it love again?" said Voldemort, his snake face jeering, "Dumbledore's favourite solution, love, which he claimed conquered death, though love did not stop your mentor from falling from the tower and breaking like an old waxwork? Love, which did not stop me from stamping on your mudblood mother like a cockroach, Potter. And nobody seems to love you enough to run forwards this time and take my curse for you. So what will stop you from dying now when I strike?"

"Just one thing." said Harry, and still they circled each other, wrapped in each other, held apart by nothing but the last secret.

"If it isn't love that will save you this time," said Voldemort, "you must believe that you have magic that I don't, or else a weapon more powerful than mine?"

"I believe both." said Harry, and saw shock flit across the snake-like face, though it disappeared almost instantly. Voldemort began to laugh, and the sound was more frightening than his screams, humourless and insane, it echoed around the silent hall.

"You think you know more magic than I do?" he said. "Than I, Lord Voldemort himself, who has performed more magic than Dumbledore ever dreamed of?"

"Oh, he dreamed of it," said Harry, "but he knew more than you, he knew not to do what you have done to yourself."

"You mean he was weak!" screamed Voldemort "Too weak to dare try, too weak to take what might have been his, what will be mine and never yours!"

"No, he was cleverer than you, and me." said Harry, "A better man, a better wizard. He taught me a lot of what he knew, and the morals to go along with it."

"I brought about the death of Albus Dumbledore!" roared Voldemort.

"You thought you did, but you were wrong," said Harry.

For the first time since he revealed himself, the watching crowd stirred as the hundreds of people lining the walls drew a breath as one.

"Dumbledore is dead!" Voldemort hurled the words at Harry as though they would cause him unendurable pain. The body of your mentor, your grandfather in spirit, decays in his marble tomb on the grounds of this very castle, I have seen it, Potter. He will not return!"

"Yes, Dumbledore's dead," said Harry, "but before he went he taught me everything I needed to know to beat you Tom, and its not some deep, dark magic, no complicated rituals or incantations, its just one simple thing."

"It matters not!" shrieked Voldemort, who had followed every word with rapt attention, but now let out a cackle of mad laughter. "It matter not what that old fool taught you, or what petty obstacles you throw in my path, I will crush them all, just like I did Dumbledore. You cannot stop me Potter, with two pathetic years of training under a man that fell to me!"

"I'd advise you to think about what you have done Tom," said Harry "think and try for some remorse."

"What is this?" asked Voldemort sneeringly.

Of all the things Harry had said to him this day, beyond any revelation of taunt, nothing had shocked Voldemort like this. Harry saw his pupils contract to thin slits, saw the skin around his eyes whiten.

"It's your last chance," said Harry, "it's all you have left, I've seen what will happen otherwise, be a man, try, try for some remorse."

"You dare -" Voldemort began again.

"Yes I dare," stated Harry, "because Dumbledore's last plan, his last lesson to me hasn't been lost. It's about to hit fruition."

Voldemort's hand was trembling on his wand and Harry gripped his tightly. The moment, he knew, was mere seconds away.

"It all comes down to this doesn't it?" whispered Harry.

A red-gold glow burst suddenly across the enchanted sky above them, as an edge of dazzling sun appeared over the sill of the nearest window. The light hit both of their faces at the same time, so that Voldemort's was suddenly a flaming blur. Harry heard the high voice shriek as he too yelled his best hope to the heavens, pointing his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The bang was like a cannon-blast and the golden flames that erupted between them, at the dead centre of the circle they had been treading, marked the point where the spells collided. Harry saw Voldemort's green jet meet his own spell, power flaring as the two poured all they had into the final spell. He saw both the wands fly high into the air, his own and Voldemort's, spinning across the enchanted ceiling and as he tracked their progress he saw Tom Riddle hit the floor with a mundane finality, his body feeble and shrunken, the white hands empty, the red eyes blank. Voldemort was dead, killed by his own rebounding curse. A split second later Harry was struck by his own curse, which propelled him backward straight into the wall of spinning magical flames, made up of his own excess power and Voldemort's combined, bled from the overcharged spells.

One shivering second of silence, the shock of the moment suspended, and then the tumult broke as the screams and cheers and roars of the watchers rent the air. The fierce new sun dazzled the windows and they thundered towards the scorched circle looking for their saviour, but no sign of him remained bar his wand, lying with Voldemort's in the centre. His body missing, disappeared as it touched the crackling wall of power.

Harry knew he was dying, he could feel it, blackness and all around him, silent, unfeeling. But he couldn't bring himself to care. He had done his duty, killed Voldemort, and now he could find his peace. And if that meant he had to die then so be it, he could be with his parents, his godfather and his friends that had fallen, as well as tell his mentor that it was all over.

He began to reminisce as he lay in the darkness, waiting, senses blind, about the last two years with Dumbledore, his whole life had changed the day that he was told the prophecy, the day that his Godfather, Sirius Black, died.

Flashback

June 25th, 1996.

Dumbledore lowered his hands and surveyed Harry through his half moon glasses.

"It is time," he said, For me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down. I am going to tell you everything. I only ask for a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me, to do whatever you like, when I have finished. I will not stop you."

Harry glared at him for a moment before throwing himself down into the chair opposite the old man.

Dumbledore stared for a moment at the sunlit grounds outside the window, then looked back at Harry and said, "fifteen years ago, when I left you on the doorstep of your aunt and uncle's house, I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years. You may ask, and with good reason, why it had to be so, why didn't a wizard family take you in. The answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. Your mother's sacrifice made the bond of blood the strongest shield I could give you."

"I don't -" began harry.

"While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched by Voldemort." explained Dumbledore.

"So that's why you force me to return there every year, even though you know how I feel about them, because it protects me from him?" asked Harry.

Dumbledore nodded slowly.

"But why do I need so much protection from him, what does he want with me?"

"Do you remember asking me, as you lay in the hospital wing at the end of your first year, why Voldemort tried to kill you as a baby?" Asked Dumbledore.

Harry nodded warily.

" I decided not to tell you then, I told myself that eleven was much too young of an age to deal with the knowledge. And that's when I fell into the trap. It seemed to me that twelve was, after all, hardly better than eleven to receive such information." Dumbledore sighed. "I cared about you too much, I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost."

Harry waited quietly, watching, but Dumbledore didn't continue. "I still don't understand." he said.

"Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made before you were born, even though he didn't know it's full contents. It caused his curse to backfire, ripping him from his body and this is the weapon he has been seeking, the knowledge of how to destroy you." explained Dumbledore.

"But the prophecy was destroyed." said Harry.

The sun had risen fully now, bathing Dumbledore's office in golden light.

"The orb that smashed was merely a recording of the original prophecy given to me on a cold, wet, night sixteen years ago in a room above the bar in the Hog's Head pub in Hogsmead by the applicant for the post of Divination professor -"

"Not Professor Trelawney!" exclaimed Harry, "she couldn't possibly -"

"She did." cut in Dumbledore, getting to his feet and walking past Harry to the cabinet that stood beside Fawkes perch. He bent down, slid back the catch and took from inside it the shallow stone basin, carved with runes around the rim. Dumbledore walked back to the desk, placed the pensieve upon it and with a sigh, raised his wand to his temple and withdrew the silvery, gossamer-fine threads and deposited them in the bowl, prodding the surface with the tip of his wand.

A figure rose from the swirling silver, slowly revolving and spoke in harsh, hoarse tones.

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month died. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have a power the Dark Lord knows not. And either must die at the hands of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies."

The slowly revolving figure of Professor Trelawney sank back into the silver mass and disappeared. The silence in the office was absolute. Neither Harry nor Dumbledore nor any of the portraits made a sound, even Fawkes had fallen silent.

"Professor Dumbledore?" said Harry quietly, "It... did that mean...what did that mean?"

"It meant," said Dumbledore, "that the person who has the only chance of defeating Voldemort for good was born at the end of July nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would be born to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times."

Harry felt like the room was closing in on him, his breathing seemed difficult. "It means... me?"

Dumbledore surveyed him for a moment, over the top of his half-moon glasses. "I'm afraid that there is no doubt that it is you my boy, Voldemort chose you. And as such, we now have no choice as to what happens now."

Harry looked up, a slightly puzzled look on his face. "What does that mean?"

"I am going to teach you Harry, show you everything that I can in the time we have left. Skills that will serve you well in your task and beyond, secrets that barely anyone remembers," Dumbledore said, leaning forward towards Harry, eyes twinkling merrily, "Anything and everything that could help you."

And Harry felt almost hopeful that he would survive.

End Flashback

Harry smiled to himself in the black, no light present to illuminate his grin. Dumbledore, the man he had come to love as a grandfather, had taught him so much before he died, and even after he had passed on, through his portrait providing information and a sounding board for his ideas. And the things he had been taught had helped him in his journey to victory. A seemingly hollow victory by the looks of things, but a victory none the less.

He remembered moving straight to Hogwarts, into Gryffindor tower, not even returning to his aunt and uncles home, who were ecstatic with the news that their nephew would never be returning. The castle itself was huge and empty, devoid of life without the other children present, even most of the staff had left for the holidays. Even the house elves were quiet and barely seen, going about their duties, cleaning and repairing whenever he wasn't there. Harry spent a lot of time simply wandering alone along the draughty corridors and exploring the hundreds of empty, dust-covered rooms, not even needing his invisibility cloak nor the Marauders map.

After a few days he discovered Madam Pince was away and practically moved into the library, going over everything he had been taught over the past five years, re-learning and practising. It became a lot easier after he and Dumbledore performed a slightly grey, memory enhancing ritual, frowned upon by the Ministry of Magic. His self-imposed lessons flying past now he could remember facts better. Occlumency training helped him to organize his own mind better than he ever thought possible and he flew through the mental skill lessons with almost unnatural quickness. Dumbledore proclaiming him one of the best students he had ever taught in the mental arts when they moved onto legilimency.

Harry was taught to apparate silently and took himself to the ministry to resit all his OWLs, gaining straight O grades in every subject Hogwarts had to offer at the fifth year level, deciding not to push himself further in the lessons he would have to take in his later years anyway. Returning to Hogwarts he went back into personal training with the headmaster, learning his animagus form and beginning the change, beginning martial arts training after another small ritual to enhance his physical attributes, senses and reflexes, making him slightly stronger and faster than normal, his eyes fixing meaning he no longer needed his well-known, black-rimmed glasses.

In between his training he would sit for hours, just talking with Dumbledore about life, magic and the world. Intense metaphorical discussions intermixed with arguments on the niceties of muggle sweets followed by explanations for basic magical premises he had never been taught as a muggle-raised child. This brought his understanding of magic to a higher level, making his spells stronger, his silent casting adding a new dimension to his duelling. Wandless magic remaining just out of reach bar a few minor spells which left him exhausted.

He remembered his last talk with Dumbledore, mere hours before he was killed, when his ageing headmaster explained to him the concept of him being a horcrux, his belief that the killing curse wouldn't work again and his ideas on how to finally defeat Voldemort

He thought about the day his mentor was killed, seeing him being struck by the curse and flung from the tower, helpless to intervene. The feelings of loss, hate and pain that followed. And then the burning desire for revenge, to learn and prove himself and win at all costs.

He reminisced on his last year, hunting down the last of the horcruxes so that Voldemort would be vulnerable, continuing his training until it all became almost instinctual, his occlumency and legilimency skills rivalling Dumbledore's, his animagus transformation seamless and instant, his apparation silent, his spell casting fluent, silent and powerful, his martial arts reflexive, fluid and strong. He may not be the most powerful wizard in the world, he may not know the most spells or some ancient forgotten magic that would save the day but he felt like he had accomplished something, he had reached the full potential he could have been at if he had done his very best for all the previous years, he began to feel that he could do what he was prophesised to do.

And when it came down to it, that's what he did.

Harry sighed and tried to look around him, peering into the blackness, wondering what he was supposed to do now, wasn't there supposed to be some bright light he was supposed to go towards to reach the other side. It was kind of boring just floating here in the darkness. He had given his life not once, but twice, as well as his entire childhood to remove the threat that was Tom Riddle and now he wanted his reward, he wanted to cross over and see everyone he had lost. He wanted to just be Harry and be at peace.

As this thought crossed his mind he felt a shift, as if he was falling and a small pinprick of light formed ahead of him, steadily getting bigger and brighter as he moved towards it. Harry smiled, this was it, it was finally all over, he was free. He entered the light and the last thing he felt before unconsciousness took him was his body impacting what looked like sand and a huge orange sun burning down on him.

A.N.

This first chapter is mostly an introductory one, most of the dialogue is taken from Books 5 and 7 and tweaked for my benefit. Please review, but go easy on me, this is the first time I have ever written anything. Constructive criticism is appreciated but no flames please. Oh, and I'm in the market for a beta, or maybe a couple of betas, I need someone to tell tell me my writings not just crap. :D


	2. The morning after

Chapter Two : The morning after.

May 2nd 2513.

Hot, that's the first thing that Harry thought when conciousness returned to him, extremely hot. Like being inside an oven when its lit. He didn't think he had ever been this hot before. He tried to open his eyes and they burned as the huge orange sun beat down on him, reflecting off the white sand all around him. He tried to move, his muscles aching from, if he remembered correctly, the impact with which he hit the sand, where ever that was. Groaning quietly, mouth dry and feeling like it was full of sawdust, he cracked his eyelids again, just a fraction, squinting blearily against the blinding light and saw a dark blob approaching, its shadow blocking some of the suns rays as it got close, the person crouching down and rolling him over roughly.

Harry gasped and tried to curl up in a ball as pain shot through him, eyes screwing shut.

"Ere, he's not corpsified after all," said a man's voice, with a strong east-London accent, "You owe me 10 platinum!"

"Gorramit," exclaimed a second voice again with the distinct cockney accent, "What sort of addlepated feh feh pi goh just lies butt naked in the middle of the ruttin dessert, pretending to be dead, costing me cash?"

"Where am I?" Harry rasped slowly, opening his eyes a fraction to see two men standing over him, "Where about in London am I?"

The first man crouched down in front of him and peered closely at his face, his tanned skin giving him an almost Mediterranean look, a strong diversion from his accent.

"You mean Londinium? That's right in the core! Your a long way from there puhn yoh." the man said, gesturing around them. "This ere is the Dyton Colonies, outer most populated planet on the rim."

Harry frowned, trying to process what he was hearing. "I don't understand, last time I checked I was at Hogwarts fighting Voldemort, there was blackness and a bright light and then pain and I woke up here. Is this heaven?"

The two men beside him looked at each other in disbelief and began to laugh loudly. "Is this heaven he says?" the first man chuckled, "This ere is about as far in the opposite direction from heaven as its possible to get. This ere is the furthest you can get from law, order and civilisation. This ere is more likely to be hell than anywhere else, most of the folk out here will probably end up there anyway, sooner or later, colonising this place ain't exactly the easiest of jobs, death rates pretty prodigious. And it ain't like anyone will care when we go."

Harry's frown deepened, "What do you mean nobody will care if you all die?" he said, finally looking up at the two figures above him properly, taking in there primitive clothes and lack of technology. He did however notice the shiny pistols they both had on their belts, almost western style. The clothes had a distinct cowboy era look about them but here and there he would notice an Asian influence. It was quite a mix.

"Were all criminals out here on the rim," said the second man with a grin, "coming out here to work the colonies reduces our lock-down, means we can be citizens again."

The sun continued to beat down, turning the sand hot, creating a blurry haze on the horizon, which was nothing but dunes, far as the eye could see.

"I still don't understand," said Harry, "Where on Earth are the Dyton Colonies, somewhere in the Sahara? And how did I get here?"

"Shen muh! Earth?" exclaimed the two men stepping back and looking at each other, "think you've been out in the dessert for too long if you think your anywhere near Earth-that-was! Ain't nobody been on Earth for damn near four hundred years, not since the exodus!"

Harry looked up in shock, "What do you mean? What exodus? Four hundred years ago? What's the date now?" he rattled off in quick succession. He tried to stagger to his feet, almost falling and suddenly realised his nakedness and rushed to cover himself himself with his hands, blushing bright red.

"Come on lad, lets get you under cover, get some drink in you and then you can ask all the questions your brain can push out. We ain't going to hurt you," the first man said, looking at Harry thoughtfully, taking off his jacket and holding it out towards him, "the names Wez, and that there's me brother Morgan. What's your name lad?"

"My name is Harry Potter," said Harry, taking the jacket from the man's outstretched hand and shrugging it on, expecting some kind of recognition.

"Pleasure to make your acquaintance Harry," said the man now identified as Wez, taking his hand and pumping vigorously, "follow me. Lets get sitting before you start flapping your mouth."

The two men stood up and turned away from Harry, walking towards the glaring sun on the horizon, haze beginning to obscure them from view after only a few feet. Harry wrapped the coat around himself tightly, ignoring the blistering heat, to try and preserve as much modesty as he had left after waking up and exposing himself to two strangers. And once happy that as much as possible of his anatomy was covered he hurried to catch up to his two new friends.

As they trudged through the baking heat, boiling sand and glaring sun, Harry fell back into sorting his memories as his occlumency training had taught him. He had all the ones leading up to the fight with Voldemort, he remembered seeing the Dark Lord fall a split-second before he was struck by what he realised was his own disarming spell, forcing him backwards into the overflow of power and then nothing. He frowned mentally and checked again, still nothing. Not a single memory from the time he touched the flames to the time he woke up in the dessert. It was the darnedest thing. Never before had he experienced anything like it, even unconscious or under dreamless sleep he was in full control of his own mind, able to monitor his senses and wake up in an instant, but this, it was like a chunk of his memory had just been wiped, no effort to hide it, just gone.

Harry searched every corner, nook and cranny of his mind for the missing section, to no avail, it simply wasn't there and it was beginning to worry him somewhat. Only a legilimancer of great talent could have tampered with his memories this way, not even Dumbledore could have done it without being caught. He went back to his very last memory, just before he struck the wall of flames and slowed it right down, looking at it frame by frame, like the negatives from a film strip. And that's when he came across it, the very last frame, one whole second of memory that he didn't remember. And all it was was black. He tried again with the very beginning of his new memories and found the same thing, one second that he didn't realise was there, this one however was all white. He was still trying to access the missing section when the sound of someone clearing their throat brought him out of his musing.

"You alrite there Harry?" said Morgan peering into Harry's eyes with mild concern, "you looked like you were wu toh wu now for a minute there. "

Almost reflexively Harry scanned Morgan's surface thoughts and was struck by a barrage of information. He was a muggle that was for certain, no mental training at all, not even the primal, instinctual barriers that all magical folk had, and it was true that he and his brother Wez were criminals working off their sentences, a year for petty theft to be specific. It was true that they didn't mean to hurt him, more curious as to who he was and where he came from. It was also true what he had said about Earth and where he now was, Morgan was thinking quite heavily about why this strange man would just appear in the dessert and start talking about being from a planet that was burnt to a crisp over 4 centuries ago.

Harry broke eye contact hurriedly, not wanting to invade the privacy of the only person he knew around here. It doesn't pay to alienate your only friends in a hostile new world he thought to himself. He looked around and saw what can only be described as a house rising from the sand, for no other word could describe the building, covered in what appeared to be tin foil. It had doors and windows and even a chimney, all cut through the shining, reflective silver covering.

Wez smirked at him, "You never seen solar sheeting before?" he asked with a grin, "it harnesses the rays of the sun to create cheap, clean power. And with the amount of sun we have around here we have no shortage of energy."

"It's amazing," said Harry, "all that power for just the two of you, why not sell the rest or something?"

Morgan laughed and joined the conversation, "Sell it to who mate, everyone on this rock has the same sheeting on their houses. Besides, it ain't just the two of us living here, the rest of the family is either out working or inside where it's cooler."

He glanced at the building sitting in the slight dip in the dessert, taking in the scant greenery, lack of boundaries and the smoke curling from the chimney, "Wanna come meet the rest of the gang then, Mum makes a wicked stew and if we're lucky there might just be some left." Quipped Wez.

Harry nodded, realising just how hungry he was now that the conversation had shifted to food, "Are you sure it's not going to be a problem," he asked warily, "I don't want to to cause a fuss and get in the way."

"Nah, course not," said Wez, slinging an arm across Harry's shoulders and directing him down the slope towards the house, "Your a character, it's not everyday you find a naked young man, unconscious in the dessert with no memories of the past 400 years, and there ain't exactly a lot of entertainment around here, I for one wanna hear your story, even if you are addlepated."

They reached the front door of the house, a solid looking wooden slab with the name Addams carved into it and Wez, pushed it open and turned "Welcome to the Addams family home!" he said, gesturing inside and bowing low, "enter at your own risk!"

Harry tried to suppress his laughter and bowed back humming the theme tune to himself. Hearing a shout of "Don't do that!" from behind him he realised that he was still only wearing the rather short coat and as he bowed it rode up and he had just mooned Morgan who was behind him. He blushed bright red again and the brothers laughed at him.

"First order of business, get you some pants!" chuckled Morgan pushing past and entering the house, Harry could hear him calling to persons unknown that they were back and had brought a guest. Wez pulled him inside and closed the door and Harry took in the interior. It was your typical rustic cabin was his first thought, wooden furniture, canvases on the walls, open fireplace with a soft looking couch in front. Nice and homely he figured, and then he looked closer, taking in the details. The air conditioning, lights than came from nowhere, electrical appliances he couldn't identify, and through a doorway to his right he caught a glimpse of a bank of computer monitors and wires.

"You have computers?" he questioned, "do you have the internet?"

"The what?" asked Wez, looking at him funnily, "your a chai neow ain't you, ain't never heard of the internet."

"It's on the computer,on everyone's computers it's like a big database of information that can be accessed from anywhere at any time -"

"Oh, you mean the cortex!" interrupted Wez getting excited, "yeah we got that, all the information you could ever want on there, you looking to find something special?"

"Answers." was all Harry replied before his legilimency kicked in to warn him of incoming danger from behind, it was a technique taught to him by Alastor Mad-eye Moody. He kept a constant almost subconscious broadcast of legilimency going at all times scanning a couple of metres around him in all directions for attacks or dangers, his 'precognition' he called it, and now it was screaming incoming.

Harry ducked and spun, neatly avoiding the incoming missile and as he rose facing his attacker he went for his wand which he always kept in it's holster on his right forearm and came to a staggering problem, he didn't had his wand!

His face dropped as he realised that however he got here he was left without anything, no clothes, money or wand to properly defend himself. In the split second that he had come to this realisation he had already hurled one of the only wandless spells he was capable of, Petrificus Totalus. He slowly dropped from his defensive stance as he surveyed the scene in the living room. Morgan lay petrified in the middle of the room, four people standing grouped together behind him, an older couple and two young children, a boy and a girl. All four were staring at Harry with shock and fear, he looked over his shoulder to see Wez also looking rather shocked and the missile he had dodged lying by the door, a pile of clothes obviously intended for him.

"Erm... Oops." said Harry, and all hell broke loose.

"Rung tse fwo tzoo bao yo wuo muhn!" came a shout from the old lady, followed almost immediately by "You killed my son you wwong ba duhn!" from the old man next to her, Wez and Morgan's parents Harry figured. The two children were screaming the place down and huddled into the old ladies skirt.

Harry's precognition kicked in again, warning him of incoming attack from behind, Wez, he rightly figured as again he turned and caught the fist as it sped towards his head, pulling so the man attached to it had to stumble forward towards the rest of the group to stop from falling face first to the ground.

"No! Please stop!" shouted Harry, taking a step back towards the doorway, "He's not dead, just petrified, I can fix him."

The old man had reached across and picked up a nasty looking shotgun from the table and was now pointing it directly at Harry's face and knowing he couldn't dodge a shotgun blast from this close and not trusting his wandless magic to block it he slowly stuck his hands up in the air.

"Explain!" said Wez from beside the old man, also armed but this time with a shiny old western style six-shooter pistol.

"He's not dead, just petrified," Harry repeated quickly, "it's like he's asleep and immobile but I can reverse it in a second, it's a conditioned self defence I have in case of attack. I mistook the clothes he threw at me as such and reacted reflexively, I meant no harm."

"Fix him!" the old man ordered, brandishing the shotgun towards the inanimate body of Morgan, still lying on the floor, "fix him now!"

"Harry stepped closer to the pale-blue, barely breathing body and bent down, placing his hand on the man's leg and sending a silent, wandless Finite Incantatum through the almost corpse like figure.

"Whoa, that was ruttin strange." breathed Morgan, stretching and trying to stand before being squashed back down to the ground by the old lady and the two children.

Harry straitened and again backed up into the door, feeling the hard wood against his back, hands still out to the sides in a classic submissive pose.

"I'm fine, no damage," Morgan was calling from under the pile of sobbing, bodies squashing him into the floor, "it just felt like I couldn't move, I could still see and hear."

He dragged himself up still hugging the old lady to himself, the children hiding behind his legs and tried to comfort everyone.

"See, good as new mum," he said looking into the woman's eyes before turning to look at the man, "put that gun down dad, no need for violence here."

The couple seemed to consider the idea for a while before finally acquiescing to Morgan's request. The man lowered the gun from its place pointing at Harry's face, but kept a hold of it in case Harry moved again, and the woman loosened her death grip on her son. Wez appeared at Morgan's side, touching his shoulder, reassuring himself that his brother was alright.

"Now then," then Morgan sitting down on the sofa and pulling the others with him, "Harry ere has some explaining to do eh? You a witch or what?"

The heads of the others shot around to stare at Morgan for his words, "Witch?" said the woman shocked, "You can't be serious!"

"You got any other way of explaining what just happened?" asked Morgan. He turned to look at Harry, "and ta ma duh, put the ruttin trousers on!"

Harry blushed again turning away from the family sat on the couch and crouched, mindful not to expose himself again, picked up the bundle of clothes. "Do you have somewhere I can wash and change," he asked, "a bathroom maybe?"

"Just through there." said Wez, pointing to a door to the right, and Harry started to walk towards it, only to be stopped by the old man's growl.

"You have five minutes and then you better be back out here," he said menacingly, glaring at Harry and clutching the black steel of the shotgun tightly, "and no funny business or your a dead man!"

Harry nodded slowly and continued the walk to the bathroom, feeling the eyes of the family staring at him as he moved. He entered the room and shut the door behind him, leaning against it and closing his eyes with a sigh. Why did it always happen to him, nothing good ever happened, just one problem after another.

"I can always obliviate them." he thought to himself before remembering his lack of wand and sighing again. He moved forward to the sink, resting his hands on the edge and looking into the mirror on the wall above. Vivid green eye's stared back as he took in his appearance. He still looked exactly as he did back at Hogwarts, not a single thing had changed.

He shrugged out of the jacket and let it fall to the floor with the rest of the clothes as he examined his body, still nothing out of the ordinary. How in the name of Merlin had he come to be stranded seemingly in the future, on another planet with no clothes or wand, it just didn't add up, it wasn't possible.

He turned on the tap and began to wash the dust and sand from his body, relishing in the feel of the cold water on his hot, sweaty skin. As he washed he continued his train of thought. He needed to get access to this cortex, their version of the internet and get some more information as to where and when he was, and how he came to be here. He needed to find his way back to the wizarding world to see what had happened after Voldemort had fallen, he needed to find himself a wand or he would be almost defenceless if he was attacked. And to do all of this, he needed his new friends to trust him.

And so he decided to tell them everything they wanted to know. If he really was in the future then the Statute of Secrecy didn't apply and besides, who would believe them anyway? Plus, he didn't have to reveal all of his secrets now did he?

"Hurry up in there witch!" he heard accompanied by a furious pounding on the door, the old man he assumed rightly, "You better not be trying anything funny in there!"

Harry turned off the tap and picked up a towel from the rack nearby and towelled himself dry before turning his attention to the clothes. Underwear and socks, easy enough, trousers with braces of all things, a white dress shirt, okay, and a long brown overcoat. He looked at himself in the mirror again and examined his appearance, he looked like some sort of old west settler, all he needed was the boots and the six-shooter.

He grinned to himself as he took a deep breath and straitened, as he did the sun from the window behind him illuminated the image and gave him an almost angelic halo of light and he paused to observe for a moment, smiling, Harry Potter, settler. Hows that for a new look.

He took a deep breath and opened the door back into the main room, time to face the music.

A.N.

Chapter two done and we are getting an idea as to what's happened. Thank you to everyone who reviewed especially those who pointed out some glaring minor errors. I mean how did I manage to misspell Voldemort of all things, damn spell checker. :D Anyway, give me some feedback again people, I'm still learning as I go though so flames would be bad. :)


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